"Petunia Evans," Lynn spat out, nostrils flaring along with her impatience for Dumbledore's calm demeanor. "You left my godson on the doorstep of Petunia bloody Evans?!"
This is a slight AU and a Sirius Black x Original Character
Split between the M...
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I see the bad moon a-risin'. I see trouble on the way. I see earthquakes and lightnin'. I see bad times today.
-Creedence Clearwater Revival
O'Hare Manor, Ireland. Easter Holidays 1993.
"You really need to harvest those dog roses," said Lynn, squinting her eyes to see through the cloud of incense smoke in her Grandmother's study. "They're ready to eat me alive, from the way they're snarling."
"Mmmm, I should get one of the house elves to do it," Aoife agreed, taking a sip from her teacup. "I haven't been out in the gardens in a long time."
"We can go for a walk," she offered, crossing the room to stand by her side. Aoife hummed and, with much effort and cracking joints, stood on unsteady feet.
"You'll have to help this old woman along, Lynn," she chuckled, wrapping a wrinkled hand around Lynn's offered arm. "Without a doubt I would have withered away if it weren't for those elves."
While Ireland's climate during the winter would normally make going out your door unbearable without multiple layers of clothing, the O'Hare manor had atmospheric charms designed to keep the surrounding grounds at a milder temperature, in order to keep the crops happy.
"Have you read Flann's diary?" Aoife asked, leaning heavily on Lynn's arm as they continued down the path. The dog roses snarled and whined at them as they passed.
"Aye, I did," Lynn answered. "So basically... he slept with a banshee, wife got angry, cursed the banshee's offspring in retaliation and now we're crazy. Nothing you haven't told me already."
"Lynn," her grandmother reprimanded. "We aren't crazy. We just simply see the world differently."
"But how can we break it," she said. "Surely there's a way to break the curse."
"Would that be a good idea? Surely Flann's wife had placed such a curse for a reason? Flann was a seer, already more powerful than your average wizard, but mixed with the blood of a banshee? A harbinger of death? If you knew that such a power was about to be brought into the world, wouldn't you do the same as Flann's wife?"
"No," she said firmly. "No, I'd never place a curse on a child."
"Perhaps it wasn't a curse."
"You're right. A hereditary ability to predict the future obscured by constant migraines, hallucinations and random urges to off yourself? Sounds more like blood magic. That shits harder to break."
Aoife sighed once again at Lynn's brashness. "I'm just speculating. Unfortunately for us, we really have nothing to go off of."
"Yeah."
"Lynn." The seriousness of her grandmother's voice stopped her in her tracks. "I know you'll figure it out. I haven't predicted much, but I did see you. I always see you." She whispered the last sentence. "Holding a book. A very old book. I think it's a message."
